7/16/05

9:12 a.m. I'm drinking a Diet Dr. Pepper and leaning back on Olga's couch. I take a swig and wince. "Do you have any Mylanta?" I yell into the other room. Olga grunts. "I don't have Mylanta, but I've got Honey Nut Cheerios." I raise an eyebrow. I'm not sure if Honey Nut Cheerios are going to do the trick.

Last night Olga and I left the house and went to Target so that I can buy a decent digital camera. (No more crapcam, my friends!) There is a strapping young man named, Dustin, who helps us choose a camera and set it up. He even lets us take a picture of him! I tried to get him to let me go behind the counter but he got all worried about getting fired or something...

Anyway, we leave Target and wait to take the light rail downtown. Olga and I strike up a conversation with a police officer who is manning the platform. He is reluctant to let us take his picture, though. What is with all these nervous Nellies worried about getting fired? We get on the train and start the 40 minute ride downtown. Olga and I are having fun with the new camera. We are posing and asking the opinions of fellow patrons of public transportation regarding which pix to keep and which to toss. They are laughing at us. It will not be the last time tonight.

We are going to meet Thor, a bloglit from a southern suburb of Minneapolis, around 8:30 at Kieran's. Kieran's is a very popular downtown restaurant. It's packed when we arrive. Olga and I are seated out on the patio by the street. We debate getting an appetizer because Olga hasn't eaten all day. In the end we decide to wait for Thor. As we sit there talking, a handsome young man walks up to us from a large table. He says that his name is Ross. He's 25-years-old. He says that he's here with a bunch of coworkers and they dared him to come up and ask us for a kiss. Ross tells us that he's gay, so it's not like he's hitting on us or anything. Well, in that case...

After "the kiss", we chat with Ross for a while and are occasionally interrupted by camera flashes from his table. "Don't mind them," Ross says. "They're just idiots." Ross gives Olga his phone number and they make a date to go shopping for shoes sometime in the near future.

As we chat, people from Ross's table filter over. And then Thor arrives. Thor is a lovely blond...actually, I'm getting sick of saying that. We are in Minnesota, so how about you just assume everybody I talk about is blond unless I indicate otherwise... Anyway, Thor is a newlywed. She just got married in June. She is 21-years-old, smart, fun. She tells me that she really likes my blog and stayed up all night reading through the May archives after she started reading it.

We leave Ross and his posse and head to the Howie Day concert. We didn't have time to eat anything since we were too busy gabbing, so we share some fried cheese curds. Mmmm...cheese curds. While we are stuffing our faces, another member of the bloglit, B Dubbs, joins us for a few minutes. She is with her boyfriend and can't stay, but just wanted to say hi. B Dubbs is blond and... Yeah. We discuss the horror of panty hose and underwire bras for a few minutes and as B Dubbs and her boyfriend are leaving, "Collide" starts playing. The three of us look at each other. We must get closer to the stage.

So, our little train starts weaving through the crowd. "Excuse me. Pardon me. Excuse me." Some guy who is holding a cup of beer over his head is waving his arms back and forth. He sloshes out a good portion of it ON MY HEAD. It's cold and I suck in a surprised breath as it trickles down my forehead and neck. I stop and wipe it out of my eyes. Well, I hear beer is good for your hair, anyway.

After the concert was over, we tried to get backstage to see Howie Day, but the security was too tight. Olga tells the police officer manning the line that her uncle was a homicide detective. The cop is not impressed with her connections, however, and we end up leaving to meet another of the bloglit, Austin.

We walk up the street to the Cities 97 stage and I start yelling across the mostly deserted parking lot. "AUUUUUSSSTTTIIIIIN!!!" A young man walks up to me and gives me a hug. "Austin!" I say. He says, "No. I'm not Austin." Oh. This is maybe awkward. "Austin will be here in a few minutes. I'm his friend, P Dog. I read your blog, too." Oh! Cool.

So a few minutes later Austin shows up and we all decide to go get some food so Olga doesn't die of starvation. Along the way Olga is entertaining us by stopping and telling every cop we see that her uncle was a homicide detective. I mean EVERY cop. And there were lots of them. I think she likes men in uniform.

We have some really good pizza at some restaurant whose name I can't remember. My neurons aren't firing so well this late at night. Before we know it, the last train is pulling up to the station and it's time to go home. It's around 1:30 a.m. Thor, Olga and I say goodbye to Austin and P Dog and start the long ride home. We are tired. We are too old for this crap. On the train we meet an Air Force pilot. He is stationed at Fort Bragg. I don't even ask why he's in Minnesota. I think it's for some kind of training. Olga tells him that her uncle was a homicide detective. He is impressed.